Chapter 8 - The Glass Breaks
The flash of light was not blue this time, but blinding white.
It felt like lightning tearing through the center of their chests—a violent, searing shock that ripped the breath from their lungs and spun the room into a dizzying vortex of sound and color.
Dante felt his consciousness violently ejected, tumbling backward through an endless corridor of mirrors, memories, and unspoken regrets.
Then—silence.
The smell of cedar, rain, and old paper rushed back into his senses.
Dante gasped, his eyes flying open.
He was lying flat on his back on the hardwood floor of the hallway. The air in his lungs felt heavy, hot, and expansive. He threw his arm across his face—a thick, heavy arm covered in dark hair, anchored by a crooked knuckle and a familiar scar beneath the wrist.
He sat up instantly, shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears.
Across from him, another figure groaned and pushed themselves up from the floor.
Elena.
Real Elena. Standing in her own silk nightgown, her chestnut hair falling across her face, her slender hands pressed against her own temples as she gasped for breath.
For three terrifying seconds, neither of them moved.
Then, Elena slowly dropped her hands and looked down at her own chest, her own legs, her own fingers. She touched her face, tracing her jawline with absolute, disbelieving wonder.
"Dante?" she whispered.
The voice was high, soft, and entirely hers.
Dante scrambled across the floor, his massive body moving with clumsy urgency, and pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of jasmine and rain that he had taken for granted every single day of his life.
"I'm here," Dante murmured, his deep baritone gravelly with emotion. "I'm right here."
Elena pulled back, her hazel eyes shining with unshed tears as she looked up into his face—his real, familiar, stubborn face. A slow, breathtaking smile broke across her lips.
"Did we pass?" she whispered.
Dante looked over her shoulder toward the silver mirror standing against the wall.
May you like
The glass was completely shattered. A spiderweb of fine cracks covered the surface from corner to corner, reflecting not two separate silhouettes, but a single, unbroken image of a man and a woman holding onto each other in the dark.
"We passed," Dante said, pulling her against his chest and kissing the top of her head. "And tomorrow morning, we're going to cancel some appointments with a lawyer."
